Burning
by KatyRose4
Summary: Jack doesn't know what to do when the Lodging House patrons are burning from a fever and then literally burning in a fire.


**Task Three:** Write about the feeling of terror, and then the feeling of relief as the moment of terror passes.

 **Prompt:** 2\. (Color) Red

 **Word Count** : 1,342

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies**

Jack could see two bright dots. It was nighttime in the Lodging House, and it was all he could see, but the lights seemed to be getting closer, and the picture became clearer. It was two lanterns, and someone was holding them. No, it wasn't a someone. It was a bird man. Or at least that's what he looked like under the mask. At first, Jack wondered if he was dying. That person walking to him looked remarkably like the Grim Reaper. It didn't help that Jack was surrounded by darkness and going towards a bright light. He squinted for a minute, trying to find a more logical explanation.

"Jack," the man called out. And there was Jack's explanation. He recognized that voice anywhere. "You all right?" It was Kloppman.

"Yeah, why?"

"I was just worried it got you too."

"It? What's 'it'? What got me?"

"The fever."

"Fever?"

"Yes, the fever! Haven't you noticed?" Kloppman moved his arm towards a wall of beds, and Jack quickly realized that those lights were coming from two lanterns. Kloppman handed him one, and Jack was able to see the commotion for himself.

He hadn't noticed it before, but there was groaning. A lot of it. As in, every single boy in the room was groaning. And it wasn't just groaning but screaming and crying. Labored breaths and whimpers, though quiet, could be heard if one tried hard enough. It was a chorus of pain, depressing and sickening, but oddly beautiful in its creepiness. It seemed as if everyone was fine, but as the light hit each boy, they suddenly looked quite sick- pale and shivering messes who snored from congestion.

Mush and Blink were holding on to each other. Boots, the forcible kid that hadn't shed a single tear, was calling out for his mother. Racetrack, as what usually happens to him when ill, had passed out entirely. He had a deck of cards opened next to him on the table and a few spilled out on the bed. Either the disease had caught him unexpectedly, or he had been doing his best to fight it before succumbing to exhaustion. Jack decided that it was a mixture of both. The news was shattering. David may have been his partner out on the streets, but in the Lodging House, Race was second-in-command. With him out of commission, things would get a lot more complicated.

Then he saw a figure hobbling towards him. Crutchy, and he looked fine. This wasn't a surprise, as Crutchy nearly never got sick. He had received immunity from a childhood plagued with every disease imaginable. At this point, he was only susceptible to the common cold or maybe a minor flu. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to know that at least one person wasn't dying. But nope. Crutchy's steps got slower, then shakier, and then suddenly, he fell to the ground.

"Oh great. Today's my lucky day. What do you say Kloppman, help me get him up? Kloppman? Kloppman!" He wasn't there. "Can things get any worse?"

The question was rhetorical, but nonetheless, he got an answer. The floor caught on fire. Jack didn't know how it happened or what even started it, but he saw a few flames and then it just escalated really quickly. His heart was pounding in his chest and he thought he was going to throw up. His first instinct was to get out, but he also knew that no one else in the Lodging House could make it out alive, so he decided to stay and fight it. He was a leader, and a leader dies with his men. And besides, they were his friends and only family.

Jack ran to the bathroom downstairs so that he could get some water and hopefully put it out. Not like he knew anyone that could call for help. Barely thinking, he threw open the closet to get a bucket. He found two big ones, and they were lighter than they looked, so he was able to move quickly. He knew that once they filled with water, they would be incredibly heavy, but that would be a problem for later. He was more concerned with actually getting water. It seemed like a futile attempt, but what else was there to do?

"Come on, come on, come on…" The water seemed to be flowing at half speed. Really bad timing. "Come on!" He was begging for a miracle. He didn't really believe in God, but the nuns said that the Lord performed miracles, and Jack was going to take any chance he could get. In his frustration, he resorted to cavemen-like grunts. He felt better after switching to the second bucket, and rushing his fingers through his hair seemed to ease the anxiety. But even if it was only a minute or two, it felt like a million years. It took a while, but at last, the two buckets were filled.

He ran up the stairs, not even caring that some of that precious water was falling out. He had to act, and he had to act as soon as possible. He flung the water at the fire, and some of the fire seemed to die down, before shooting up again at top speed. It was like a hydra. He wanted to grunt but saved his breath (and precious oxygen) for running down the stairs and getting more water, because the smoke was getting really thick.

The ordeal repeated itself about four more times before Jack gave up. He had to. The fire spread so wide, it reached the entire room, burning everyone in it. The room was black with smoke. Jack had been at the door to see the whole thing. He should've run away. There was no one left to save but himself and he still had a chance to go. But the combination of grief, shock, and lack of air rendered his legs useless. They simply weren't working. His knees wobbled and he fell on the ground. He failed. He failed, he was dying, he saw everyone else dying, and he was literally petrified.

"Jack! Jack!" he could hear his name being repeated over and over again. And it sounded like Crutchy. Jack wanted to get up. He wanted to get up for Crutchy, cause he sounded desperate. But that wasn't possible, because the room was swirling with heat and his chest was too tight and everything was hurting and it was hot. So, so, _so_ hot _._ And then he realized something…just ten minutes ago, he had seen Racetrack unconscious.

Voices don't come from nowhere, water puts out fires, there was always a bathroom on the second floor (the one he got ready in _every_ morning for the past _seven_ years), people don't disappear out of nowhere, Kloppman didn't even have a bird mask, and people are supposed to choke on smoke but he didn't hear any coughing. No. This could mean only one thing.

"Jack!" He fluttered his eyes open. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Everying felt weird though. He knew he wasn't on fire, but the air was still dry and his skin felt sticky. "You have to do something!"

"What?" Much to his surprise, his usually loud voice came out like a whisper- a side effect of sleeping too long.

"Crutchy, what are you doing? He's sick; leave the man alone," Skittery scolded.

At first Jack was confused. And then he thought, _Oh, I'm not on fire. It's just a fever._ He saw David with a monstrous look in his eyes and a terrified Racetrack and heard lots of yelling about something he couldn't quite understand. Either situation should've concerned him, at least a little. And usually he cared more. But as quickly as the panic had come, he felt a strange sense of calmness. He sighed back into the covers, though he stayed awake. He had to fix whatever problem David and Race were having. But rest-assured, it could be resolved. And that was comforting.

 **Author's Note: I had originally started a story explaining why David is so mad at Racetrack (and other events surrounding a day without Jack)...but I scrapped it. Maybe I'll unearth it for another time. Hope you enjoyed reading!**


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